Backdoor Love
by Colorain
Summary: Josie and the Pussycats movie-verse. Some DuJour unrequited slashy love. Nothing graphic.


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Backdoor Love

By Colorain

Disclaimer: I don't own _Josie and the Pussycats_. Doesn't Archie Comics? Besides, this is really about DuJour, which I don't think was in the comics. So . . . DuJour and "da boys" belong to whoever made them up.

So . . . anyway, the guys names I got from imdb.com. Don't know how accurate they are. And I made up DJ's last name. For timeline . . . think early in DuJour's career.

Um, and it helps if you know some of the lyrics to "Backdoor Lover". Cause that's kinda the whole point of the fic.

Slash! Can't believe I almost forgot that.

DJ Parker almost couldn't believe it. It was like yesterday he had been a poor songwriter, stuck singing other people's songs in bars and hoping to make enough of a tip to cover gas for the way home. And now? Now he was part of DuJour, the biggest boy band to hit the country since NSYNC. He figured O-Town didn't count.

They had a _jet_, for God's sake. And here he was, sitting on a couch. In his plane.

Marco and Les, two of his band members, were harmonizing in the background. DJ winced. A capella obviously wasn't their strong suit.

Travis, the last member of the group, lay asleep on the couch across from DJ. He was wearing a silly pink feather boa—DJ couldn't help but smile at the campiness of it all. He guessed Travis wasn't exactly known for his fashion sense in the group, but nobody cared. Their entire fan base—boys as well as girls—had their own peculiar tastes, and none of the DuJour four were lacking for admirers. And they hadn't even sung a public note yet.

Travis opened his mouth and let out a little snort. DJ couldn't understand how the guy could fall asleep on those couches. Despite being designer—like pretty much everything _else_ on the plane—they weren't exactly the most comfortable.

The plane hit a patch of turbulence and Travis's eyes popped open. He looked over at DJ. "Hey, Deej, what's happening?" he asked in a sleepy voice. DJ found his voice had abandoned him. He couldn't speak.

Travis managed a half-smile when DJ didn't answer. "Good to know," he yawned, turning his body to face the windows on his side of the plane. Small snores bubbled up from the couch. Now that DJ thought of it, he was glad Travis had moved. It gave him such a good view of his bu . . . 

DJ mentally slapped himself. He knew he shouldn't think of Travis like that. Trav was definitely het, if the fact that he was always girl-hopping at their public appearances meant anything.

Besides, who had ever heard of a boy band that had a gay member? Wyatt would drop him. Fiona would kill him. And DuJour? They would be completely disgusted.

Sighing, DJ grabbed a pen and paper from his pockets. Mainly he used the pad to sketch designs for the upcoming DuJour clothing line—Wyatt said it gave girls a kick to think that DJ had thought up what they were wearing. In reality, about ten percent of the line would consist of his ideas. The rest would come from top clothing designers. DJ's name would be the only one on the label. Creativity was pretty stifled in DuJour. They were manufactured to look good—not to think for themselves or question authority. DJ hated it, but he conformed. One day, maybe he'd break out of DuJour—sing his own songs, have people like him for him. Until then . . . well, DuJour was a good place to be.

DJ took one last look at Travis before he began scribbling lyrics on the paper. Maybe Wyatt would let him record it, if it was any good. And if not . . . he had a solo career waiting somewhere in his future. It wasn't a big deal if nobody liked it.

~*~

"Backdoor Lover" was probably one of DuJour's biggest hits. Fiona liked it. Wyatt approved. Even the guys had been complimenting DJ nonstop since the song hit #1.

In fact, they had just filmed the music video for it on the plane. By tomorrow, it would have its _TRL_ premiere. Within a few days, it too would be a hit.

It was almost scary, DJ thought, how successful everything was.

Travis walked by, interrupting DJ's train of thought. He stopped in front of DJ, smiling.

"Hey, man . . ." he started. "I love you."

DJ's eyes widened. _No way_. "Woah, bro . . . repeat?"

"Great song. The girls are gonna love you for it. Backdoor lover . . ." He gave a little laugh. "Risqué, dog."

DJ realized Travis hadn't said he loved him. Fighting back the sudden urge to jump out of the plane, DJ managed a sickly smile back. "Nice improv . . . the whole fainting deal. The girls are gonna love _that_." 

DJ didn't mention how much he had enjoyed catching Travis. It was the most bodily contact he'd had with _anybody_ for weeks.

"Thanks, Deej. You know the presence of a master when you see one." _Oh yeah, I definitely do_. DJ thought. Travis began to walk toward the back of the plane. Stopping suddenly, he turned back to DJ and gave him a smile that made his heart stop.

"And man . . . ?" He paused. "Thanks for catching me."


End file.
